A Stormy Night
by Konstantinsen
Summary: The rain poured down heavily as the choppers lifted off amidst heavy fire from Monolith forces...


**NOTE: This is a one-shot concerning the hours after the final events of S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Call of Pripyat.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>August 29, 2012<p>

20:16 – Upon knowing the reasons for the failure of OPERATION FAIRWAY, the UKRAINE SECURITY SERVICE orders the evacuation of the surviving Military units from PRIPYAT under the leadership of USS agent MAJOR ALEXANDER DEGTYAREV.

20:35 – MAJOR DEGTYAREV turns over a locked box to COLONEL PAVLO KOVALSKY. The box supposedly contains: documents concerning secret experiments conducted in the ZONE including ITEM 62, the NOOSPHERE experiments, and underground laboratories scattered throughout the ZONE; magnetic keycards accessing these underground laboratories, particularly LABORATORY X8; batteries containing encapsulated particles of the FLASH artifact; and PDAs concerning the presence and operation of mercenaries in the ZONE.

23:47 – Under heavy fire from MONOLITH forces, MAJOR DEGTYAREV stays behind to cover the evacuating Military units. Just as the helicopters take off, he reportedly "tossed over" ITEM 62 to COLONEL KOVALSKY.

23:50 – MAJOR DEGTYAREV is presumably "lost to the ZONE".

* * *

><p>He checked his PDA—personal digital assistant—and sighed. It was past two in the morning and it still rained heavily. Not that he minded at all, anyway.<p>

He sat there; on a crate at the tower overlooking the battered grounds of the Prometheus Movie Theatre—the iconic statue posing proudly over the lifeless Monolith troops. It was an ironic sight that seemed (_sickly_) oddly glorious.

The rain poured down on him; he was drenched inside and out since some of the plates gave way during the fighting. A half-empty bottle of vodka sat in his hand—both were cold—as the adjoining elbow rested on a leg that sat atop a dead Monolith sniper. In the other was his helmet which was also in bad shape. His rifle, a customized Dragunov SVD nicknamed "Lynx", leaned against the crate.

Lightning flashed followed by deafening thunder. For a glance, he saw how beautifully strewn the bodies were all over the place. From the Theatre to the River Port to the buildings on Kurchatov Street, the image displayed a multitude of shadows over a wet and dead city.

_It's the anabiotics_, he thought. The experimental drug developed by Professors Hermann and Ozersky for use in the Zone—primarily to survive emissions by shutting down the nervous system and inducing unconsciousness—was starting to show its side effects on him. How many times had he used it? One, two, three? Probably more.

_It _is_ the anabiotics._ The hypothetical symptoms were now becoming confirmed. He lacked emotion—sympathy—and a feeling of emptiness formed inside him. It was as if the drugs had chipped a void into where it shouldn't be. They seemed to have amplified his ruthlessness.

He had killed men before—it was part of life in the Zone—but those who were wounded, he sometimes spared even if they were the cruelest of the Bandits. But after waking up from his first dose, he didn't have the same empathy as he had for those who lay dying on the ground. Instead, he either left them or put them out of their misery. It was very uncharacteristic and it frightened him at first.

When the last time he gave someone medical assistance? _A week ago…_ Ever since he entered Pripyat, his enemies were mutants and the ever-so loathed Monolithians. Mutants didn't deserve any sympathy. But the Monolith fighters were human and some of them even broke free from whatever spell there was that made them trigger-happy fanatics. _Strider. He's a living example… wherever he is now… if he's still alive._

He turned his head to the café. There was a flash of lightning and he picked out some movement. Already, his rifle was in his hands. It took two seconds for him to find the target and three more to discern it was a zombie—an individual unlucky enough to succumb to the effects of prolonged exposure to heavy psy-emissions.

He held his breath and squeezed. As if on cue, thunder roared effectively muffling the rifle's loud pop. For a fraction of a second, he saw the bullet speed through the air and hit its mark.

"Goodnight," he remarked. _It's two in the morning._

He set the rifle down and peeked into his satchel. Food was enough to last a few more days; no worries on ammunition; medical supplies weren't much of a problem as well. His only dilemmas were the state of his guns and how much weight he could carry before he would collapse. He could probably haul ass over to the Laundromat and drop them off there. But Garry wouldn't be back for a few more days… unless Kovalsky told him not to come back. Who knows? Maybe Monolith troops took it over. They could do that as quickly as one could bat an eyelid.

He shook his head. _Don't trouble yourself with these things, Sacha. You chose to stay and you're staying. So what do I do now?_

He wasn't expecting to survive. When he threw the Gauss rifle over to the Colonel, he had thrown away his desire to live at that moment. What was on his mind was the importance of the mission and successfully completing the current objective. Now, the objective was over and he didn't have anything else to do.

Except survive.

The storm intensified and he could feel the coldness of the rain covering him completely. He stunk, he was tired, and he was alive. _It's definitely the anabiotics_, he told himself again, _I knew they would make me do things like this._

He shook his head and finished off his drink. He wanted to throw the empty bottle but decided against it; instead, he placed it in under him. _Was indecision a symptom?_

_Probably so._ In the end, Major Alexander Degtyarev slept on the highest point of the River Port tower.

* * *

><p>September 3, 2012<p>

10:21 – MAJOR DEGTYAREV is "posthumously" promoted to Colonel, awarded the Order of the Gold Star, and given the title, "Hero of Ukraine" for his services in the ZONE and the successful investigation of the failure of OPERATION FAIRWAY.


End file.
